Shifting Perspectives
by BrenRenQoI
Summary: PostPoint of View, Sam & Jack need to confront the conflicting realities they witnessed.


Shifting Perspective

by Bren Ren

Summary: Post-Point of View, Sam & Jack need to confront the conflicting realities they witnessed.

Disclaimers: I'm so poor I can't afford to pay attention, so really, what's the point?

Author's Notes: Third installment of my Missing Moments Series. First Chapter was "It was a Good Year", Second was "Out of the Ashes they Rise".

* * *

Jack peeked over his shoulder one last time, his lips still warm from the alternate Sam's kiss, before turning to face the mirror. Then he saw her. His Sam. Just the thought gave him pause, but the look on her face... He really ought to have spontaneously combusted right on the spot. He reached up and touched the mirror, and was no longer looking at his Sam, but the other one. The Mrs. Jack O'Neill Sam he'd just been kissing a moment earlier. The tears streaming down her face nearly finished him, but Jack the Soldier reined it in. 

For a moment.

Until she turned away and the mirror faded to black, and he could see in its dull surface was the reflection of the still glaring image of his Sam.

His Sam. He really needed to stop thinking of her that way. It certainly wasn't helping keep the lines clear between the personal and professional. Then again, in a situation like this, how was that even possible? There were no protocols, no regulations for dealing with the appearance of an alternate version of one's second in command--one that had been married to the now deceased alternate version of himself. It was just too weird. He continued to stare at the mirror--at his Sam's reflection--until he heard Hammond clearing his throat behind them.

"I want that thing destroyed immediately. The control device as well. Anything and everything connected to it in any way, shape, or form." Jack finally turned around, intending to face the General, but instead found himself locking horns with Sam.

"But, sir--" Naturally, Daniel Jackson would have to voice an objection. Frankly, though, Jack was in full agreement with the General. One Sam made him nervous enough, but two? One of whom had been married to him? Well, sort of...

"No 'but's', Dr Jackson. Some lines aren't meant to be crossed, and this is one of them. We've pushed our luck as far as I dare. This discussion is closed." Hammond turned to leave the room, only then seeming to notice the Colonel and the Major locked in their staring contest. "We don't have a problem here, do we?"

"No, sir!" Sam was the first to respond, but Jack echoed her, but only missed a truly synchronized answer by a split second. The General stared at the two of them, then nodded, apparently satisfied enough that the two officers would be able to manage this obvious conflict of interest in their own way.

"Very well, see that it stays that way. Colonel, I want you to oversee the destruction personally. And I want it gone by day's end. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." Jack's voice was hoarse, but that was the only hint of the emotions broiling beneath the surface of the old warhorse.

General Hammond left the room, doggedly followed by Dr Jackson, who apparently hadn't given up hope for preventing the destruction Jack was moments from initiating.

And then there were two. Sam and Jack, still standing face to face in front of the mirror, neither willing to look away, but neither ready yet to voice thought to the myriad emotions passing between them. Sam's eyes were filled with a mix of embarrassment, anger, and maybe a touch of jealousy. Jack, though, was the image of contrite apology. The kiss had been inappropriate, of course, but strange, in both good and bad ways. She felt like his Sam, smelled like his Sam, even tasted like her, or as much as he could recall from their little locker room episode with that Broca virus incident.

Finally, Jack broke the silence. "I'm sorry, Sam. I shouldn't have--"

"You KISSED her!" Yeah, she was definitely a mite ticked off. "In front of all of us! Me! Daniel! Teal'c! General Hammond, for cryin' out loud!" As soon as the phrase escaped her lips, she stopped. It was enough to earn her a rather pointed look from Jack. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Jack paused, trying to figure out just what he had been thinking. Comfort her? Give her that last chance to say goodbye, perhaps? Or maybe it had been more self-serving... a way of kissing Sam that the regs couldn't fault him for. Finally, he simply answered her question with one of his own. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Not that!" She actually seemed to be getting angrier by the second, by the heartbeat, even.

Jack retorted with yet another question. "Well, then, you tell me, what would you have done?"

Sam opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. Jack could fairly see all the thoughts and possible answers to his query flying through her mind, broadcast loud and clear through eyes. "I can't do this. I really can't--" she broke off, turned on her heels, and beat feet out of the room as fast as she could without actually running.

Jack's eyes followed her out of the room, but his feet stayed stuck in place. "Damn," he muttered. "That didn't go so well, did it, Jack?" he asked himself. He stood there for a long moment, wondering if he should follow her. He sighed, realizing duty really had to come first. He walked over to the in-house phone to ring through to Davis for assistance in dragging this now much-loathed mirror to demolitions, several levels deeper inside the mountain base.

They had just finished loading up the mirror device with enough C-4 to take out several city blocks, under the advice (by phone, because obviously Sam wasn't ready to face him again yet) of Major Carter that this device may prove difficult to destroy, being that it was made of an alloy that included naquedah, something akin to plutonium, and some other unknown but highly dense and heavy metal element. Jack had just cleared everyone into the blast shelter room next door when Daniel came bursting in.

"Jack!" The poor man looked near to tears. "Tell me you're not really just going to blow it up! Think of everything we can learn from it! I mean, it's already proven the theory of parallel dimensions... not to mention that the information I brought back from my first trip through the looking glass did help us save the earth from Apophis' attack!"

"I take it you weren't successful in changing Hammond's mind, or he'd have called himself by now."

"I just want a few hours with it. Surely you could do an old friend a favor and delay the blast to kingdom come by a few hours, can't you?" Jack was pretty sure he could see the tears welling up in the young man's eyes now.

Jack shook his head with all the sympathy in his battered heart. "I'm sorry, Daniel. Immediately pretty much means immediately, and while I may not always follow orders to the letter... this is one I agree with too much to take any chances. You'll just have to make do with the data we've already collected from this thing. Why don't you go talk with Sam? She had a long talk with... herself... about the mirror, that much I know. I'm sure you two could come up with a novel or two worth of new information on these quantum reality theory things."

"I would... but she doesn't seem to want to talk to anyone right now." Daniel took off his glasses as he sighed in defeat and wiped the moisture from his eyes. He put his glasses back on before attempting speech again. Even then, his tone was broken, uneven. "You really should talk with her about this stuff, Jack. I know that it's all a bit... strange, to say the least, but if you try to sweep this one under the rug like you do everything else... It wouldn't be good for either of you, not to mention the team as a whole."

Jack heaved a sigh. "I tried... and we got a little bit of it out in the open... but the base really isn't the right place... And I'm pretty sure she needs some time to sort things out herself before she's ready to deal with me."

Daniel nodded in understanding. "Just as long as you do intend to talk with her..."

"Believe me, I'm not inclined to let this one lie, myself. Like you said, not good for the team... And Sam and I had reached a pretty good understanding before this. I don't want to lose that over this whole weird looking glass experience."

Daniel looked like he was waiting for more from Jack, but Jack just stared hard and fast. The younger man finally got the hint that the conversation was over, and after one last longing glance at the mirror, he turned and left the blast room. Jack, too, gave the mirror one last look, though it was mixed with confusion, discomfort, and a bit of relief that they wouldn't have to suffer through another experience like this, before turning and exiting, sealing the blast door and radioing in the order to fire at will.

Sam had locked herself in her lab and refused to answer any calls, knocks, or other attempts at intrusion. She needed time to process, and that time had to be uninterrupted. She only hoped that none of the knocks or calls had been from Jack. She didn't want to ignore him, or make him feel shut out, even if that was exactly what she was doing at the moment. It was only temporary, until she could properly sort, categorize, and file away all the confusing and overwhelming emotions flooding through her.

She'd really only had a couple of chances to speak privately with the alternate version of herself. The first had happened shortly after she had blown off Jack's attempt to discuss the strange situation. About five minutes after he left, Sam couldn't resist going to talk to "herself". And naturally, the first thing that came up was the discrepancy in their life choices--one being military, the other purely personal.

Turned out, the cause, unsurprisingly, was her mother. The other Sam's mother had lived all through Sam's impressionable adolescence, had served as a buffer against Dad's persistent pushing toward a military career. That Sam's mother had lived to see Sam graduate with dual doctorates (one of the many things they did have in common) before succumbing to a brain tumor the year before she and her Jack had married.

Which, naturally, brought the second subject of personal conversation up. Jack O'Neill. The alternate Sam couldn't believe that there was nothing going on between them... and eventually, Sam quietly confided their secretive, well hidden, and quite unconventional relationship, such as it was. The agreement they had come to, to keep things professional for however long it took to defeat the Goa'uld, or at least assure Earth's safe defense from an attack by them. The other Sam had begged, insisted, pushed her not to ever let go of Jack O'Neill, and told her that he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She shared a few details of their wedding, how happy he had made her, and how much happier he himself had been for their union.

Strangely enough, the other Jack had also lost his son, had been chosen for the first Stargate mission for the same suicidal tendencies she'd learned that her own Jack had been chosen for. And yet, in spite of that painful, guilt-inducing incident in his life, the other Sam and her husband had started talking about starting a family of their own, just days before the Goa'uld attack.

Married. Children. A family life she had scarcely allowed herself to dream of having, and this other Sam had nearly had it all, until the Goa'uld came down and destroyed all her dreams. The other Sam wasn't sure she would be able to survive without her Jack. Sam had tried to offer her assurances that she was a strong woman; she had to be to have made it as far as she had. Her doppelganger hadn't appeared convinced, in spite of every attempt Sam made to console her, and eventually, Sam gave up and left her duplicate alone with her grief.

Then the quantum fluctuation shifts started, and when the decision to take her back to her own reality was made, the alternate Sam had nearly lost it. Going back to her destroyed world, fighting to put the remnants back together into some semblance of civilization, going back to the home she had shared with Jack... Sam had stayed in the infirmary with her for a while as she cried her heart out over the loss of the love of her life.

Then she started talking about using the mirror once she got home to search out a similarly destroyed world in which there might be a Jack who had lost his Sam, who might be willing to join her in saving what was left of her world. Then she realized it would be like replacing her Jack, and she knew she could never do that. The poor woman appeared so hopeless and torn, it broke Sam's heart.

Then the "AlterSam" again set about convincing Sam not to let go of Jack, to take advantage of every moment they could squeeze out for themselves. She begged Sam not to let military rules and regulations stand in the way of her happiness, and swore that no one would ever be able to make her as happy as Jack would. She told Sam that Jack was her one true love, her soul mate in every sense of the word.

Sam did her best to assure her "Alter Ego" that she already knew this, that she knew in her heart that she would never love anyone the way she loved Jack. And even though they may not be able to express that love in the ways traditional lovers would, they did have the advantage of being able to be together day in and day out, sometimes practically living together in off world missions that would stretch out for days, even weeks on end. Unconventional, yes, but satisfying enough in its own way. But she did hold one important detail back from the "AlterSam"; the fact that she and Jack had already been intimately involved... twice, in fact. She had revealed far more than she should, especially on base. You never knew whose eyes and ears were paying attention.

Sitting in the quiet of her lab, her whirling mind gradually slowed to something more akin to a merry-go-round than a whirling derby. Slowly she was able to separate the feelings of her alter ego with her own. Somehow, they had gotten muddled together during the short time the other Sam had been with them. Sam had always known she was too empathetic for her own good, especially in a military career, but this was something else altogether. Slowly, Sam found her way to letting go of the burdensome emotions of her alter ego, and regaining a solid grasp of her own.

She knew the discussion of this unfathomable experience with Jack was inevitable, but right now, she'd be content to delay it forever. She just didn't know how to face him, not without wearing her heart on her sleeve and baring her soul to him. She'd done that enough already. To do so now would be so very dangerous to them, particularly for their careers. She knew if they talked now, there was no way she'd be able to avoid tumbling straight into the nearest bed with him, so desperate for release was she.

She suddenly made up her mind as to what she needed to do. A little self-gratification can go a long way, and perhaps after that she'd have the self-control she would need to face Jack. It was a hell of a lot safer than the alternative. Sam rose from her untouched reports and unseen computer screen, turning it off before she moved to exit the lab. She saw Daniel approaching and almost changed her mind. Daniel, though, wasn't the threat, she told herself as she opened the door to her lab. She came out, and locked the door behind her.

Daniel, surprisingly, didn't make any attempt to talk to her, merely nodded in passing. Sam let out a sigh of relief as she walked towards the lift. She desperately wanted a quick shower before changing to her street clothes, but didn't want to risk a run-in with Jack, so she decided to simply return home in her BDU's. It wasn't that uncommon, after all.

She reached the lift, pressed the call button, and waited. She began tapping one foot, the only outward evidence of her anxiousness to make her hasty retreat from the facility. The bell chimed, the doors opened, and Sam stepped inside, the beginnings of relief that she'd managed to avoid Jack starting to set in… until a hand reached through the nearly closed doors, forcing them back open. In stepped Jack O'Neill. _Damn_, she thought to herself. _Close, but no cigar._

"You wouldn't be trying to avoid me, now would you, Major?" Jack's question was soft, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Sam turned and faced him, looked him square in the eye. "As a matter of fact, yes, sir, I was."

He actually took a step back. She supposed he wasn't expecting quite such brute honesty, but it was all she had to give him at the moment.

"Well… I guess… I should just keep my mouth shut till we get out of here." He paused for a moment, then gave her a bemused grimace. "Not that I've ever been very good at that."

Sam had to turn away, for she didn't want him to see her smile at his oh-so-typical retort. Still not facing him, she spoke once more. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm just still not ready for this."

She heard him sigh behind her, and could see in her minds eye him dragging his hand across his short hair. "I understand," he said simply.

She turned back round to him, her eyes wide with surprise. "You do?"

"Why does that surprise you so much? I'm not a completely heartless bastard, you know. You need some time. So take it. Take all the time you need. But I do want you to know this: We will talk. There's too much brewing from this little… incident… to let it lie or try to ignore it. Not good for you, for me, for us, or for the team. But it can wait until whenever you're ready." He paused then, reached one hand out to gently clasp her shoulder. "Just try no to wait too long. I'm a bit anxious myself to get the air cleared, you know?"

Sam nodded, afraid to trust her voice. She took a step back, and Jack let his hand drop back down to his side. Even that little physical contact had nearly sent her over the edge, and jumping him in the lift was **so** not a good idea. Jack stepped back to, and the rest of their ride to the surface was in silence. Just before the reached the parking level, though, Jack moved back to stand a hair's breadth away from her. She could feel his warmth, could smell his breath, could almost taste him, he was so close.

He bent his head down close to her ear, and his warm whisper tickled the sensitive hairs there. "Don't wait too long. As soon as your ready… just call. I'll be right there."

The bell rang, and Jack stepped back, exiting the lift. Sam stood there a moment, trying to regain her sense of calm and balance, and then exited the lift a good distance away from him.

Part Two

The moment she closed the front door, Sam proceeded to strip out of her military clothes, shedding her soldier persona along with the articles. First her jacket, dropped somewhere near the door. Then she bent down, unlaced her boots and kicked them off. As she traveled down the hallway, she unzipped her trousers and let them fall to the floor, ignoring where they finally came to rest.

Finally reaching her bedroom, she shed the last of her clothes, and the last reserves of her military strength fell away with those items, as well. Suddenly and without warning, a deluge of emotions once more overwhelmed her, conflicting and confusing feelings she still wasn't entirely certain were her own.

Fully nude and naked to the world, albeit within the privacy of her own home, she padded slowly to the bathroom. One of the few places she allowed herself to be totally and completely feminine, she began her relaxation ritual…one she seldom had time to employ. She lit nearly a dozen candles strewn throughout the small room, and then dug a few more out from a cupboard near the sink. Setting them around the edges of the tub, she lit them. The warm, comforting scent of vanilla quickly filled the air; she breathed in deeply, trying to find calm and comfort deep within herself.

She reached over to the tower over her toilet and turned on her small CD player, adjusting the volume so that it would just be heard over the running bathwater. It was a custom mixed CD she had created specifically for this purpose; a mix that included a little of everything, from the classical to the new age—but nothing with any words or lyrics that might disrupt her focus and relaxation.

She turned on the bath water and once it heated up to her satisfaction, she stopped up the tub. Slowly she stepped in and sat down, her eyes closed and her mind focused on relaxing, on breathing slowly as her body gradually became accustomed to the intense heat. Only then did she slide down towards the faucet, propping her feet up and positioning herself just right for the fast pouring water to rain down, pounding hard and heavy against the sensitive core of her being.

She slipped one hand beneath her to help angle her hips so the water hit just right, then tipped her head back, her eyes still closed as she focused on the sensations. Her arousal grew surprisingly fast, and though she hadn't intended, had usually avoided such thoughts in this private engagement of personal pleasure, she found memories of Jack slowly filling her mind.

Memories of his hands on her body, his skin against hers, his mouth against her most sensitive flesh. It was only moments before she found herself convulsing, hard and fast, waves inundating her mind, her body, her very soul, with both pleasure and pain. As quickly as they came, they past, leaving her thoroughly drained from the experience. Slowly, her legs dropped back down as she slid back the length of the tub. The basin hadn't even filled to the half-way point, so she added an overgenerous amount of bubble bath gel to the water. Scented to match the candles, the vanilla fragrance was soothing, calming. And yet, she was still shaking, physically and mentally, by the experience.

The tub reached its maximum capacity, and Sam used her feet to lever the faucet off. She rested her head against the back of the tub and let her mind roam freely, even though she knew she would find herself overanalyzing the experience—particularly the thoughts that had finished her off so unusually quickly.

Jack O'Neill. Would she ever be able to get him out of her system, she wondered, or was she destined to forever be haunted by the memories of their brief times together? She let her mind wander freely through the ideas, the memories, the emotions, everything that his name conjured up. The music reached a swelling crescendo, stirring up memories of their last moments of intimacy, spurred by her unyielding need to comfort him after Hathor infested him, however briefly, with a goa'uld symbiote. She could picture every detail in crystal clear perfection: the way his hands roamed her body, the hard pounding of their bodies, of their pulses. She swore she could taste him on her tongue even now.

Sam lingered in the tub until the water turned cold; she then got out and wrapped herself up in her largest, softest towel and padded back into her bedroom. She quickly rubbed the last residue of moisture off her body before turning down the bed and slipping between the silky soft sheets. She may have to be tough at work, but in the privacy of her own bedroom, she indulged in all the womanly comforts her career deprived her of ninety-eight percent of her life.

She nestled her head into her pillow, sighing deeply as she could practically sense the smell of Jack filling her nostrils. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around a spare pillow, and for a moment, she could almost pretend he was there beside her. The coolness of the pillow kept her in reality, though. A tear slipped out her eye and she let it fall unheeded onto her pillow. It was all just so damned unfair, she could scream. But that wasn't what she really wanted to do, so she just hugged her pillow tighter, mentally trying to will Jack to feel her desire for him, wherever he may be.

He wasn't as far away as she might have imagined. He tried going home. Actually made it there, for a short while. Long enough to drink half a beer, watch about ten minutes of the Simpsons, and go outside to break his four year record of being nicotine free. He'd accidentally discovered a forgotten stash of cigarettes hidden behind the videotape of the Simpsons he'd tried to distract himself with. It proved to be too much of a temptation at a time he was fighting such desperate frustration.

He wanted to call her, but he told her he'd wait. He wanted to go to her, but he told her he'd wait. Wait until she was ready, he promised himself. Have patience. She's a brilliant woman; it won't take her long to sort it out enough to talk it out with him. An hour became two, then three, then four, five, six. And with each passing hour, his resistance grew weaker, his need to see her, to be with her, to talk to her, to touch her, grew stronger. He stabbed out the last cigarette in the pack, thanking himself for only leaving half a pack to chain-smoke himself numb with. He could practically feel his lungs blackening with those last drags of bitter smoke.

He went back inside and tried the old cold shower trick, but the only purpose it served was to wash away the stench of the tobacco. That and further his need to see her face to face. He got out, dried off, brushed his teeth, rinsed with extra mouthwash, and even shaved as he decided he simply couldn't take any more of this waiting game. Patience was never his strong suit anyway. He got dressed in a fresh set of clothes, donned his beloved leather jacket, got into his truck and began driving.

He was halfway to her house before he changed his mind and turned back around. He promised her he'd wait, and that was what he should do, he told himself. He only made it half way back home before turning back again. After about three more of these loops, he finally had enough and drove determinedly to her house.

Then he sat in front of her house for another good long hour before he could bring himself to breaking that promise. He glanced at his watch as he got out of the truck. Three in the morning. Damn. He should have just come straight over in the first place. Immediately after leaving the base. Screw waiting for her to be ready. They needed to settle this, not let it stew indefinitely. And knowing Samantha Carter as well as he did, that's exactly what would happen if he didn't take action himself. She may be the smartest as well as one of the bravest persons he'd ever have the privilege of knowing, but when it came to matters of the heart, he knew as well that she could be downright chicken shit.

Not wanting to drag her out of bed to answer the door at such an early hour, Jack snooped around the front porch until he found her spare key tucked away inside a panel on the underside of her porch light. He let himself in with the masterful quiet of his black ops training and set her key on a table near the door before locking it shut behind him. He crept down the hall to the closed door he guessed must be her bedroom—all the other doors down the hall were wide open and she was clearly not in any of them.

He stopped dead in his tracks, the door only half open, when he saw her in her bed, sound asleep. Her arms were curled around a spare pillow, snuggling it like a lover. Her sheets had slipped low down to her waist, the bare expanse of her back telling him she was nude beneath the rest of the covers. All the blood in his head rushed due south of the border, and try as he might, he couldn't stop the stirring deep in his groin.

Good God, but she was beautiful. He'd always admired her beauty, whether she wore the bulky BDU's or her ever so sexy street clothes, but seeing her like this was something else entirely. In sleep, she was completely defenseless. All the walls and barriers between them were as absent as her clothing, and she was as vulnerable as he'd ever seen her. He wanted desperately to strip down and join her, hold her and make love to her until she couldn't see or hear or taste or even think of anything but him.

That wasn't what he came here for, he told himself. Gathering up his ever-weakening willpower, he stepped into the room, softly closing the door behind him. He sat down on the bed beside her, and as his weight shifted the mattress, she rolled over closer towards him. He reached down and pulled the sheet back up to her shoulders in a vain attempt to block her nudity from his mind. It was just enough to awaken her to his presence.

Her eyes fluttered open, slowly at first, then suddenly grew wide as she registered his presence on her bed. Her mouth flew open wide, a gasp echoing through the room.

"Jack!" her voice was a whisper, but it nearly rang out in his ears as a scream. "What are you doing here?"

He offered her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry…. I guess I just… couldn't wait forever and a day for you to be ready… to talk about… well, you know…" He couldn't seem to form even a slightly coherent sentence; his body was aroused to the point of complete distraction.

She blinked a couple of times before responding. "You want to talk? Now? At what…." She turned over to glance at the small clock on the other side of her bed. "Three in the morning?"

Jack stared at her for a long moment, then bent down, close to her ear, and whispered, "Well, if you want to know the truth… what I really want right now… is… you." He heard her whimper softly in response. Then she took him by complete surprise when she rolled around, wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her for a long, deep kiss.

"You must have ready my mind…" she murmured into his mouth through their kiss.

Jack allowed himself to enjoy, savor, even, the feel and taste of her before finally dragging himself away from her. Sam lay there, gazing at him with eyes filled with a mix of bleary sleepiness and pure, unadulterated desire. It was all Jack could do to pull in the reigns of his own desire. This wasn't what he came here for, he told himself again.

"Okay… well, if that's not what you came here for, what did bring you to my bed at three in the morning?" The sleepiness had left her eyes, and her voice. For a moment, Jack wondered if he'd accidentally voiced his musing aloud.

"We need to talk." Jack winced, knowing how odd that sounded coming from him. He knew, though, that if he didn't start this off, it would be swept under the proverbial rug like so many other dust bunnies that made up their unconventional relationship.

"You want to talk about it?" Sam stifled a yawn. "Now?"

"I don't want to wait for the next near-death experience to discuss this… issue." Jack fixed his gaze on her with one of his most determined stares. "I think it would be better for us… for all of us… to get this out in the open… and settled… well, as much as it can be given our situation."

"Ranks… regulations…" Sam voiced the words he'd been so obviously reluctant to address by name. "We were married."

"**They **were married. This… alternate version of us."

"But they were….us. In so many ways. Yes, there were some obvious differences, but in the ways that really counted, they **were** **us**." Sam shifted her position, holding her soft flannel sheets to her chest to maintain some modicum of modesty. "She had all of my intelligence, courage, strength, and… love for you. The big difference was, she was free to express it."

"Ah, those differences. She wasn't military. Pretty big difference, that." His voice held no small amount of irony in it.

"There's a good reason for that." Sam paused. Jack waited. Still, she couldn't quite bring voice to the words flitting at the tip of her tongue. Jack continued to wait. Sometimes, the man had the patience to rival a saint, contrary to popular rumor. Finally, she released a deep-held sigh. "Her mother… wasn't killed in the car accident that mine was. In fact, her mother lived until about a year before she and her Jack got married. Died of cancer. Dad followed her soon after.

"Mom… Her mom… served as a buffer against dad's push for the military career. She ended up appeasing them both by working as a civilian with the military. They never knew exactly what she did, but the fact that she was doing what she loved and was at least loosely involved with the military was enough to keep them both happy."

Jack let out a soft, low whistle. "Yeah, that would explain it. I guess."

"There were other similarities. Like the fact that the alternate version of you also lost his son… went on the first mission through the gate to Abydos for pretty much the same reasons. Had the same sense of humor." She paused for moment to let the details sink in. "And yet… in spite of that… they were talking about starting a family just before the Goa'uld attacked."

Jack blinked, stared at her wide-eyed. "Kids?"

"One or two. They hadn't decided… galactic circumstances being what they were…. Whether they were ready to bring children into this universe. Or that one, I should say."

"Kids?" Jack knew he was repeating himself, but he couldn't help it. He never really thought about attempting fatherhood again, considering how disastrously it had ended for him the first time he tried it.

"Hard to imagine, isn't it?" Sam reached out to gently clasp his hand. "But that's the reality… their reality, anyway, of their relationship. It was a good one. Great, even. She told me… that I should do anything and everything I could… not to let go of you… That if I gave us a chance… it would be the best thing that ever happened to me." Sam paused, squeezing his hand. "She really didn't have to work too hard to convince me… not of something I already know."

"Married and kids?" Okay, Jack told himself, this repetition thing was getting a bit ridiculous. "I'm sorry… it's just… I never dared entertain the thought of… of having another child. After Charlie…"

"I know." Sam let the words hang in the air. This time, she would be patient. She would wait for him to finish the thoughts she had learned to read through his eyes.

"I guess if there was anyone in this universe… or any universe… who might convince me… You would definitely be the one to do it. Hell, you can talk just about anyone into just about anything." Jack paused. He turned to look at her through her dark bedroom. "Is that what you want? Children?"

"I… I don't know. I never stopped to think about it, I guess. Always so career minded… and with this line of work, it would be difficult at best… But… yes, I suppose someday… I could see myself having a child or two… a family… with the right person."

"The right person…" There he went repeating her words again. He really needed to stop that, he told himself. Then he told himself he needed to stop talking to himself and focus on talking to her. "So what do you think all this means for us?"

"I think it means… whatever we want it to mean. It could mean nothing it all. Or it could mean… the universe is trying to get it through our thick skulls that we're supposed to be together."

"Two for two with these Alternate Universe things. And two for two when it comes to the end results with these things. We get together, the world as we know it comes to a crashing burning end."

"I guess you could choose to look at it that way… but then, we've gotten together… sort of… and the world certainly hasn't come to an end."

"We aren't really together." At that statement, Sam pulled her hand away. Jack reached out and grabbed it back, holding it firmly is his own. "Not in the conventional sense. Obviously there's something pretty strong between us… and not at all professionally… appropriate. But nevertheless… it's there. I think what I was trying to say was… do we just keep going the way we've been?"

"Keeping up the professional front as this… thing… keeps growing stronger and deeper regardless of how 'inappropriate' it might be? And the alternative would be, what? Transfer me to another team? Another base? One of us resigns from the Air Force altogether?"

"I can't say I like any of those options. I don't know what the answer is, Sam. You're the genius, here. I guess I was hoping you would."

"I don't. The only thing I know with absolute certainty is that I'm not prepared to let you go. As for what we do beyond that… I'm drawing as much a blank as you."

"Well, let me assure you… I'm not prepared to let you go either. So we'd better figure out something before this…" He paused, glanced down at their entwined hands before continuing, "gets us into trouble. Serious trouble. Last thing either of us needs is a court martial."

"True… so… what, then?"

"I don't know…. Keep up the 'professional front', as you put it, until we've racked up enough save-the-world/galaxy/universe points to get an official Presidential Permission slip?"

Sam laughed. "Leave it to you to come up with an idea like that."

"It's the best I've got. You have a better idea?"

"Not really."

For a long moment, they sat there staring at one another. Jack could practically see the tension between them, it was so thick, so strong, so visceral, so real. Without warning, Jack stood up. He walked round her bed to draw the shade down on the window. Then he crossed back round to sit beside her again.

"Professionally appropriate or not, what I said in the very beginning of this conversation still stands true, Sam. And after everything we've said… I just don't have the will-power left to walk away. Unless you tell me to go right now, I am going to make passionate love to you until you can't see straight."

Sam gasped, then shivered as his words ripped right through the very core of her. But she said nothing, just extended her hand out to him—the hand that had been holding her sheets in place to protect her vague semblance of modesty. Funny that it had never been vague until Jack O'Neill came into her life.

Jack tore his shirt off over his head before taking her hand in his, wrapping his other arm around her as he lowered them both back down onto her bed.


End file.
